No - Please - Don't! - A Tom Hiddleston One Shot
by sherekahnsgirl
Summary: Tom surprises his lover in their bedroom, taking her by force. She thinks it's a sex game . . . but it feels entirely too real . . . THIS IS VERY NSFW! VERY MATURE! Erotica, Smutty Smut Smut, Rape, Non-Consensual Elements/Rape, Sex, Forced Orgasm, Threat of Forced Pregnancy, Kinky, Rough Sex, Hair Pulling, Light Choking,


A/N:

VERY NSFW!

Mature Audiences ONLY!

There is RAPE in this story, which is inherently NON-CONSENSUAL, even though she is made to enjoy it.

There is talk of FORCED PREGNANCY in this story.

If you find any of the above elements disturbing to read, please go read something else.

Erotica, Smutty Smut Smut, Rape, Non-Consensual Elements/Rape, Sex, Forced Orgasm, Threat of Forced Pregnancy, Kinky, Rough Sex, Hair Pulling, Light Choking,

Huh.

I was surprised he wasn't home yet.

He should have been.

I shrugged, offloaded the groceries I'd schlepped in from the car onto the counter, practically launched my briefcase into the living room, never to be seen or heard from all weekend if I was lucky, then headed for our bedroom, disrobing as I went, starting with my jewelry as I always did.

I was standing in front of my vanity, dropping my necklace and earrings into the intricately carved jewelry box Tom had given me on our first Christmas together, just before I heard the bedroom door slam shut behind me.

Startled, I squeaked in fright, turning to see my love leaning back against the door.

There was no mistaking the finality of the click of the door lock, and I immediately sensed that something . . .

Something wasn't _quite_ right.

There was something about his posture, the way he was holding himself that put me on edge, however ridiculous that seemed. He wasn't smiling as he was ninety-nine percent of the time. He wasn't coming at me with open arms as he always did when he first saw me after we'd been separated for even the shortest length of time.

He was just . . . standing there . . . staring intently at me as he removed his expensive silk tie to wind an end around each hand.

My eyebrow rose as a surprising, unfamiliar jolt of pure, raw fear ran up my spine.

I wanted to snort at that, though. Fear? Why would I ever fear my Thomas? He was the kindest, most loving, warmest, dearest man . . .

Who had begun to stalk me - there was no other way to put it - using those huge strides to advance towards me with a set look on his face, holding that tie in his hands as if he was going to use it to strangle me.

But that was just . . . patently ridiculous, wasn't it?

This was _Tom_ , after all.

Regardless of what I knew deep down in my bones about my lover of almost eighteen months, my fight or flight response kicked in without me authorizing it and I sprinted - still wanting to giggle at the impulse at this point - towards the bathroom door.

If he wanted to play games like this, I wasn't going to make it easy for him, although at that point I had no idea just how far - how expertly far - he was going to take it, and how terrifyingly real it would end up becoming.

But he beat me there, occupying the doorway in his usual wide legged stance, arms crossed over his chest and still ominously silent, a small smile playing about his lips.

He was toying with me, and loving every minute of it!

I stopped myself from bumping into him - somehow instinctively knowing that I didn't want him to touch me in the mood that he was in - barely, swerving away from his reaching hand towards the door he'd locked, only to change course again, mindlessly mid-flight, and instead combat rolled to the other side of the bed, but there was really nowhere to go from there.

There was nowhere to go from anywhere - he had all the exits covered and I was now neatly trapped in the corner of the room - the bed was still between us, but I could hardly scoot under it - I knew for a fact that there were boxes full of linens we didn't use under there, and I certainly didn't want to end up _on_ it with him.

He was looking entirely too primitive for that.

No hope there or anywhere, and he was rapidly closing what distance remained between us, the casual way he draped the loose tie around his neck at odds with the ferocity of his other movements.

At the last minute, I tried to bulldoze past him, but it was like trying to move a friggin' marble statue, and now I was captured in his arms.

Only it was completely unlike any other time he'd ever touched me.

And he didn't, really, at first, simply using his agile body to cage me back up against the wall, planting his feet wide around me and each palm near a shoulder with a deliberately loud report that made me jump and bang my body against his both times.

Normally when I was scared he was ultra-solicitous, calming me with his voice and his hands and his body until I felt safe again.

Not _this_ time.

"Tom, I don't know what you think you're doing but please stop." I didn't recognize my own voice. It was several octaves higher than usual due to the fear that constricted my throat until I could barely get a word out, and sounded abnormally submissive and pleading.

Instead of doing as I'd asked, he acted as if I hadn't spoken at all and used his superior strength and size to consciously intimidate me, so that as he began to arch his body into me, I was doing my level best to meld my flesh away into the wall behind me, feeling my shoulder blades starting to hurt even through my clothes as I tried frantically to get away from him.

Before I had a chance to really even begin to process what was happening between us, he'd undone the zipper of my slim skirt and sent it fluttering on its way to the floor and literally ripped my pretty chiffon blouse off me, hurling it away from us to reach immediately for the front catch of my bra with an evilly anticipatory smile on his face. When he'd revealed my breasts and drank his fill of them with a look that was not at all shy of insulting, he reached one hand down to tear my panties away, leaving me entirely defenseless against him.

As if I hadn't been already.

Amazed and horrified both at the impulse itself and the fact that I couldn't seem to resist the urge, I did my best to cover myself, holding my breasts in my hands, hiding them from him.

From _Tom_ , for God's sake! From _Tom_!

I _could not_ believe how he was acting.

As I tried to come to grips with the situation - with _him_ \- one of his hands tugged the tie from around his neck and the other attempted to gather my wrists together.

But I fought him. I fought as hard as I could, watching that muscle in his jaw ticcing away as he set about viciously subduing me, slamming me back up against the wall when I tried to slip around him to one side and then the next, getting absolutely nowhere.

Deciding to go on the attack, I reached up and grabbed a handful of that glorious hair and yanked for all I was worth, but two tremendous swats to my breasts that left livid red handprints on my otherwise creamy skin had me releasing him in a humiliatingly short amount of time, only to find my own hair grabbed at the base of my skull as he twisted my long braid around his arm and tugged, hard enough to smack the back of my head against the wall, forcing me to arch my neck unnaturally as his lips descended on my vulnerable flesh.

He licked and sucked and lightly bit his way up to my ear, where he whispered in a tone that was entirely too civilized for what he was doing to me, and just that much more terrifying because of it, "Oh, please, _do_ continue fighting me. You have no idea how much it arouses me to finally _put_ you in your _place_."

Then he leaned a bit back and pried first one hand away from the death grip it had on his shirt then the other, until he had them together in one hand, expertly wrapping his tie around them to secure them, then hauling them up over my head as his hips rubbed the unmistakable evidence of his raging desire against my belly.

"Tom! What the hell are you doing? Stop!" I cried, alarmed at how breathy I sounded now, as if I was begging him to do the opposite, instead.

Until then, my legs were closed, and at least I had that kind of . . . last defense.

But then he stripped me of that - however tenuous the illusion of safety - too, driving his big hand between them, until I was almost hung up on his arm as his hand reached the wall, then pinching his way down the tender insides of my thighs, making me yelp and try to get away from those painful caresses, which was exactly what he intended.

As soon as there was enough room, he slipped first one foot then the other between mine and began to spread them open, taking mine with him, holding me horribly wide and vulnerable to him, off balance, so I had no choice but to lean into him for support - something I swore in my mind that I didn't want to do.

He practically slapped his hand up into that delicate area he was keeping so exposed, making me jump and him chuckle just slightly, in a thoroughly unpleasant manner I'd never heard from him before and I hoped I never heard again. " _This_ ," he rasped into my ear as he gave a sharp jerk on my braid just because he could, "this is _mine_ , and I will take it - _use_ it - any time I like, whether you want me to or not." His tongue licked my neck slowly. "And you and I know I can _always_ make you want it."

I tried to avoid his tongue, tried to move my head, but unless I wanted to rip my hair out by the roots, I wasn't going anywhere until he let me.

Seconds later, I found myself thrown onto our bed, and I did my best to keep my wits about me, trying to scramble to the other side, almost there . . . almost there . . .

But then a hand closed around my ankle and I was hauled back to where he was kneeling on the bed.

 _Slowly_.

 _Inexorably_.

So that I could feel _every_ interminable, humiliating second of my defeat.

I continued to fight him as much as I could, but the man had had training in all sorts of fighting and self-defense techniques, and he was close to twice my size.

If he wanted me - and judging by the huge bulge in his pants, he definitely did - he was going to _have_ me.

And there was absolutely _nothing_ I could do to stop him.

Within a matter of only a few seconds, despite how I tried not to let him succeed in doing so, he'd bound my wrists to a hook I hadn't even known was there behind our headboard. The fleeting thought about just how long it had been there crossed my mind but then there were too many other things crowding it to worry about that triviality.

He sat on top of me, legs on either side of my hips, and I could plainly see, as I looked up at him from within the frame of my own useless arms, just how much he was enjoying himself.

"This is your best, most natural position, my dear - bound, helpless, and waiting to receive me," he crowed.

Tom divested himself of his clothing in no time at all, and even when he lifted himself off me in order to take off his trousers, I still couldn't seem to manage to unhook my wrists no matter how much I wiggled and twisted them - and I damned near exhausted myself in the attempt.

I was so intent on my task that I forgot to worry about where he was for a second.

Until suddenly I found my legs parted again, just as rudely as they had been before, only this time it was his hips that I couldn't close them around as he moved carefully up me, almost as if he was stalking me again, and I could feel the length and strength of him - the raw menace of his enormous cock - being dragged against the insides of my thighs as he marked his territory with a moist trail of pre-cum - and soon I felt that familiar pressure against my entrance.

He bent his head to suckle hard a nipple that I desperately wished I could say was flaccid and uninterested.

But it definitely wasn't, and what he was doing to it didn't help.

He didn't remain there long, though, rearing back, reaching down to gather my legs - although I tried without success to peddle them away from his hands - and bring them up to hook catch them over his arms as he planted a hand on either side of me.

I could feel him immediately beginning to inch his way inside me.

"No, no, please, Tom, don't - you can't -" I whimpered, writhing beneath him, trying to get away, but I soon realized that it looked - and felt - more as if I was trying to encourage him, so I stopped.

And he gave me a grin that was so primal, so feral, that I could barely recognize it as his.

"Oh, but I _can_ , and I _will_."

I was always wet around him. He inspired that in me, and I was definitely moist now, to my utter shame, although I was nowhere near as ready for him as I usually was because until now he'd always taken his time, making sure I was well prepared for him.

Not this time.

There was much less of my juices easing his way.

He was a big man.

I was a small woman.

And it _hurt_.

Not horrendously, not torturously.

But there was definite discomfort.

Worse, much, much worse than that, though, there was distinct, undeniable _arousal_ , especially as he sank his unforgiving, unyielding self home within me.

He was _there_.

 _Tom_ was there.

Where I _didn't_ want him to be.

Where I didn't _want_ to want him to be.

I had always thought of my body as my own until that moment of true, blunt clarity.

He was proving to me, in the basest of manners, that it had been _his_ all along.

With or without my consent.

What I wanted didn't matter.

He was inside me to the fullest, to the hilt, so that I could feel his balls against my cleft as he slammed further up against me several times, as if to prove his point, not giving me any time to come to grips with that marble hard column that split me open and held me that way while my body automatically pulsed and spasmed around him.

He possessed me more completely than anyone ever had before in my life, never easing back, never letting up, forcing me to accept his thick, imposing presence within me.

And making me confront head on the ultimate, humiliating truth I had always suspected, but never really wanted confirmed - at least not to this extent.

I didn't just like it, I _loved_ it.

My mind would probably never be entirely on board, but my body sure was, and I knew we could both feel how I was now practically gushing around him, my clit swelling and aching, my plaintive mewling now almost dissipated to be replaced by throaty moans at every violent jerk of his hips.

But my mind was still trying to rebel. I could _not_ do this - I couldn't _possibly_ find pleasure in how he was treating me - manhandling me - my mind refused to accept defeat and staged one last ditch rally.

"No no no no no no no!" I chanted, eyes closed, head whipping back and forth. "Get out! GET OUT OF ME! Get out get out GET OUT!"

I was amazed when he did exactly as I wanted.

My eyes opened wide in disbelief at my unexpected success.

And then I felt my braid yanked viciously again from beneath me, his free hand coming up to cup my throat, squeezing just enough that I could feel the absolute power those slender fingers had over me as he rammed himself into me again, just once, seating himself again so deeply that I moved my legs automatically - trying to get purchase to arch myself away from him - as if they were planted on the mattress instead of held uselessly in the air.

And, to my abject mortification, I contracted once, very hard, my body grasping at him, clutching at him.

There was no way he wouldn't have noticed it, and his chuckle made my shame at my body's responses just that much worse.

As he began to hammer himself into me, he wrapped my braid even more tightly around his hand, cruelly forcing me to arch my head back even further while his other hand closed threateningly around my throat.

His savage snarl - _and his oh so potent choice of words!_ \- only added the sensations that were swelling and multiplying rampantly within me no matter how hard I tried to tamp them down. "I _knew_ that this was just what you needed - to be taken down a peg or two - or ten. You need to be reminded - frequently - whose you are, and what, exactly, it means to be _mine_ , and in a manner that you'll enjoy entirely too much for you to bear."

The hand that held my hair loosed it, but the one at my throat caught it and held it just as tightly, while his free hand slid between us as his hips continued to piston ferociously.

I didn't want him to touch me there. I didn't!

I _didn't_!

He _couldn't_!

It would be all over for me - my façade of indignation, of outrage, of anger at him for doing this to me would be completely superseded by the demands of my own body.

There wasn't much fight left in me, but I did the best I could - knowing it was futile.

"Tom - no - don't - you can't - please - no!"

And then he was _there_ , too. He controlled all of my most sensitive spots, and he wasn't treating any of them gently.

As his fingers began to curl and roll over a clit that - because of his size and the uncontrolled vigor of his strokes - had been forcibly flushed from its hiding place and was thus just that much more sensitive, I knew I was lost.

He would win.

He had me, in every possible way a man could have a woman - bound, beneath him, held open for his penetration, the slickness of my obvious arousal easing his possession of me, my tortured bud manipulated and manhandled until I could feel the inevitable, tingling fringes of the beginning of the end of my sanity.

I didn't want to cum like this. I didn't want to reward him for the way he was treating me.

But the choice about whether or not I experienced that ultimate pleasure had been ripped from my hands.

As those sensations began to build, as he pinched then flicked me, rubbing and tapping me, the strength of his body holding me still for his attentions, he looked down at me and I saw pure triumph there that only heightened as he locked his eyes with mine.

"You're just about to cum, aren't you? Despite all of your silly protestations, this is just exactly what you want and need."

I could hear in the raw huskiness of his tone that he was at least as close as I was.

And then he dropped the bomb, just as my body began to clench uncontrollably around him and I opened my mouth to scream in ecstasy, that feral growl wormed its way into my fevered brain even as the throes of sensual oblivion began to close around me and I was a helpless victim of that sweet, sweet ache he ratcheted up a million notches with the stark terror he inspired with his carefully chosen words.

"Think about this as you enjoy the Paradise I've brought you to against your will: I'm not wearing a condom. And this is your fertile time. I'm going to put a baby in you, if I have to do this to you every hour on the hour for the rest of the weekend."

I lay there, still spasming even more powerfully beneath him as he roared his completion into my ear and spent himself inside my body, knowing there was a very good chance that he had done exactly what he said he was going to.


End file.
